


Forget Me Nots On The Table

by 1_jew_in_a_room



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: But will probably end up being the longest thing I've ever written, Catholic confessions, Child Abuse, Homophobia, Homophobia within Catholicism, I'm sorry this will be slow to upload, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Whizzer's coming home, his dad is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_jew_in_a_room/pseuds/1_jew_in_a_room
Summary: Whizzer's been thrown out and has nowhere else to go. Somehow he finds himself back where he promised he'd never return: Home.___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________What happened to Whizzer Brown from 1979 to 1981? What happened to him before the music even started playing? (Sorry if this isn't great - I usually only write drabbles and one-shots but I'm pushing myself to try and write something long. This will probably take forever to finish and a lot will build and add so expect a lot more tags as we go.)





	1. Thrown Away And Picked Back Up

 

                It was raining. Whizzer abhorred rain - it mussed his hair and made him cold and no, it _didn’t_ make him want to go back to _that apartment_ with _him_. It certainly _didn’t_ make him want to curl up in the familiar bed they had shared. And he certainly _wasn’t_ grateful that the rain drove everyone inside so that nobody saw the tears that _definitely weren’t_ pricking at the corners of his eyes. He ran a hand through his damp hair and pulled his jacket closer around himself, annoyed that he’d forgotten his umbrella.

 

                Last night he had found some random man with an apartment and slept with him so he had a bed. It wasn’t a bad fuck, the man was attractive enough, but it had felt empty. Now the feeling had only grown and everything felt empty. He felt like he was dying, the silence and wet chill echoing throughout all his insides. He knew he could go into a cafe of some sort but it didn’t feel right - he didn’t feel like he could. He let out a frustrated growl as he stepped into a puddle and then kicked into the water as hard as he could.

 

                He knew the things in his hastily packed suitcase were starting to get wet. He knew that he’d forgotten some things. He knew that he’d never said goodbye to Jason. Most importantly he knew he had nowhere to go. As he looked up into the dreary grey sky he thought of Marvin’s stormy grey eyes and buried his face in his hands. He thought of other people he’d never said goodbye to.

 

                As he passed a payphone an impulse came into his body to make a choice he’d probably regret. Despite the dread pulsing through his blood at the idea he made his way over. It had been a long time and Whizzer desperately hoped that the number hadn’t changed but also hoped desperately that it had. He put in his change and dialed the familiar digits, muscle memory taking over even after all those years, and numbly asked himself why he was doing this. There was no answer. He couldn’t breath as the even tones rang out into his ear. It seemed like he was standing there for hours but finally the ringing was replaced by a young woman’s clear voice.

 

                “Hello?” Whizzer found that he couldn’t respond. He was choked by fear and guilt and anger and a hundred other things he couldn’t name.

 

                “Excuse me? Hello?” Finally the desperate fear that she would hang up pushed his voice through the lump in his throat.

 

                “Lily?” There was a cold silence that followed. Something fell in the background on her side. Whizzer winced. Finally her voice broke the thin quiet even though it trembled with disbelief.

 

                “Johnny? Is that you?” Her voice was hushed like she couldn’t bear to say the words any louder. Or perhaps she was trying to stop anyone from hearing. The tears finally started to roll lazily down his cheeks. The name sounded almost unfamiliar to him even though it had been his own. It hurt.

 

                 “Yes.” He paused. “I’m glad- I’m glad it’s you.” _I’m glad it’s not dad_ , were the words silently said.

 

                “Why?” The word was a knife in Whizzer’s head. His little sister sounded like she was crying too and he knew that it was his fault. She also didn’t sound so little anymore. God, he had missed so much of her life.

 

                “I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry, this was a mistake, I’ll-”

 

                “Please don’t go.” _Not again_. Whizzer choked on a sob and took a moment to compose himself. A turbulent silence once again took them. Whizzer didn’t know what to say or why he had called. Why he had thought this was in any sense a good idea.

 

                “Dad is- gone….” Whizzer had just been about to say something, some excuse, but the breath left him. _Gone_. Somehow she went on although her phrases were broken by shaky breaths and soft, muted sobs.

 

                “Please come back, Johnny. Ma misses you- I miss you. It’s never been the same- not even Dad-.... The funeral is in two days. Please, Johnny, please come home. I don’t care how much it costs, we’ll find a way to pay if you need us to. _Please_ ,” Her voice cracked and shook as she begged him and Whizzer felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t say no. A piece of him didn’t want to.

 

                “.... Still in the same old house?” Lily almost laughed. Even the small glimmer of the Lily he used to know made Whizzer cry harder.

 

                 “Yeah, we’re still here.”

 

                 “I’ll.” He paused. It was a bad idea and he felt it to his very core but something pushed him. “I’ll find my way there.” It sounded as if she wanted to say something more but nothing else was said. The telltale harsh click signaled the end of the call. He stood frozen with the phone pressed to his tear-stained cheek long enough that the grating voice began to instruct him patronizingly how to make a call. With stiff arms and trembling hands he put the phone back into its cradle and stood motionless in the small cubicle. Every twitch and jump  in his body felt alien and an odd rushing took his ears and head.

 

                 After what could’ve been hours or seconds - Whizzer had no idea - the sound of harsh banging finally reached him. A man was angrily pounding at the payphone door, clearly unhappy that he was being ignored in the rain. Whizzer left the dry haven numbly and brushed past the man without so much as a glance. The rain no longer bothered him. The freezing drops no longer had any effect on the young man. He felt as if he were floating in some senseless place and some part of him identified the feeling as shock. For a moment he closed his eyes, standing on the street corner and trying to decide what in God’s name he was going to do.

 

* * *

 

                 He found himself walking to the airport. He had promised and he didn’t want to break any more promises. He had a bit of money saved from his job as a freelance photographer - certainly enough for a ticket for the next flight to Kansas. Organizing all of the logistics helped to distract and numb him a bit although a certain level of apprehension lingered constantly in the back of his mind.

 

                His trip happened in a confused blur. Whizzer couldn’t remember anything from the three and a half hour trip to Topeka and on the four hour train ride to his hometown he felt the beginnings of deep anxiety blossoming in his stomach. As he got nearer and nearer to Dodge City more emotions filled him to the point of being overwhelmed - anger and hurt from old things he’d never let himself work through, guilt that still wracked through him and a deep loneliness at the thought of his past family, and a prominent ache at the impulse to reach to Marvin. Gradually a hostile edge sharpened his mind; old survival tactics coming back to haunt him.

 

                By the time the silent taxi ride was over and he found himself standing in front of his childhood home he had wound himself so tightly that he the rush of nostalgia that hit him felt obtrusive and betraying. He stared at the fresh coat of paint on the walls of his old house and breathed in the heated, slightly humid air. The sounds of a large dog barking sent him into a memory.

 

                 _It’s sunny and warm. Springtime. A big fluffy dog barrels over to him and he giggles. The slight breeze plays in the animal’s fur and it makes him want to grow fur and have it writhe and flow around him too. The thought feels silly so he laughs. Little legs run him over to Herbey, the family sheepdog, and he buries his face in Herbey’s soft side. The breeze blows a bit stronger and scatters some branches across the yard and the blue sky above is littered with little wispy clouds. Mama comes out with little Lily on her hip._

 

                 _“Come inside, Johnny, it’s time for lunch.”_

 

                 _“Mama, why are her eyes so big?”_

 

                _“Because everything is so new and she wants to see it all so badly.” Mama smiles as Lily babbles to her. He laughs again and runs over to hug them._

 

                He didn’t even notice that his jaw had clenched as he reminded himself of the bruises on his arms years later. Or the even more painful accusations that’d been thrown onto him. The hot, stifling air filled his lungs as he took a deep breath and steeled himself to approach his house. It felt surreal, like some sort of painting that he’d stepped into. Not his life. He’d sworn that he’d never come back here but his legs kept going, one step after the other, until he was knocking at the door.

 

* * *

 

 

                 He had expected to see Lily at the door. He had expected to be shocked by how tall she was or by how much she’d grown or really any of that bullshit. He hadn’t expected a broad-shouldered man to open the door and look down at him. A stern look passed over the man’s face as he looked at him and Whizzer shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

 

                “Is Lily here?” Whizzer’s voice came out confident and poised despite the rolling waves of anxious nausea that were tearing through him.

 

                “Yes. Are you an old friend? I don’t know you.”

 

                 Whizzer almost rejoiced when she came to his rescue. But he wasn’t ready for how much she’d changed - he’d told himself that she must have grown up and wouldn’t look at all the same but he couldnt’ve really prepared himself.

 

                The little light brown pigtails had grown into long, brunette waves. She was tall, almost as tall as him, and looked into his eyes with a cocktail of difficult emotions. That was what was so different, though, her eyes. They were still Lily but so - different. Like she’d already lived a full life since he’d seen them. Which, he thought to himself bitterly, she had in a way.

 

                “Johnny.” She stared shifting in the doorway like she had the impulse to do something but held back. The man next to her raised his eyebrows and stared.

 

                “Yeah. Hey, Lil.” She actually laughed, tears springing to her eyes, and pushed past the doorway to hug him tightly. He tensed and stayed statue-still, like some outside force was holding him frozen.

 

                “It’s you, really you. G-d, you look so different! You- Wow. Just- We had no idea what had happened to you or- where you’d gone or-” Another mirthful laugh burst from her mouth as he finally hugged her back gently, almost cautiously. Her eyes were tired and red like she’d been crying a great deal.

 

                “This is my husband, Roger.” It felt like Whizzer’d been hit with a freight train. She’d gotten married. “We tried to find a way to tell you, or invite you to the wedding or something but we had no idea where you were or how to contact you…” He hadn’t been ready. Coming to this place was a mistake - he had known it as soon as he’d stepped on the plane.

 

                He felt hollow - like he’d been punched through and someone sucked all of the life out. The world and the people around him felt like some sort of cheap fallacy.

 

                “Congratulations.” Was all he could really manage - it sounded weak and half-hearted and he knew it. Her face softened.

 

                “Right. You must be exhausted. And a bit shocked. Um. Why don’t you come inside? Don’t mind Hans, he’s a sweetheart but he’s loud.” She stepped aside and a German Shepherd peered at him from inside. He took a breath and stepped past the door frame and into his childhood home, the pit of his stomach dropping further the closer he got.


	2. Cracked Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable happens and, though Whizzer thought he'd prepared he realizes the old wounds he thought he'd covered over are still just as fresh.

       

        The living room was eerily unchanged. The same easy chair sat in the corner by the old fireplace - both now clearly unused - and the same shaggy rug lay stubbornly on the floor. The most notable changes were a fresh coat of cream paint on the walls and a new flat-screen TV hanging on a wall mount. Whizzer took it all in with a muted disturbance settling heavily inside of him. It was just like in the movies when a grenade goes off. Somehow in all the chaos of his mind, everything inside him was horrifically quiet. His thoughts had scattered off, thrown away by the blast. Time had seemed to stop. He was standing in the middle of his old living room with his hands in the pockets of his expensive and very stylish brown leather jacket (which Marvin bought him but that didn’t matter), staring bewildered at the chair his dad always used to sit in after work, and he had no idea how he was feeling.

 

        He finally broke eye contact with the offending pieces of furniture and walked haltingly to the hallway. Something felt very wrong, like he’d walked into a shoddy recreation of his old home. Like somebody who wasn’t there to see it tried to remake everything perfectly based on a few different recollections. Like he was intruding on somebody else’s dream. He didn’t know how far in he wanted to go. Breathing was difficult and he had to press his fingernails into the palm of his hand to keep himself grounded.

 

        Hans moved to the doorway, protectively waiting at Lily’s side.

 

        “Where’s Roger?” She shifted a bit.

 

        “Don’t be like that, Johnny. He’s waiting in the kitchen. I said that I wanted to talk to you alone.”

 

        “Please don’t call me that.”

 

        “Then what am I supposed to call you?”

 

        “I go by Whizzer now, so-”

 

        “Oh my G-d, seriously? That stupid old nickname? Almost nobody even called you that.”

 

        “Well the people that mattered did.” Without meaning to both their tones had sharpened. A silence fell heavy upon them as Lily pet Hans in absent-minded strokes. Whizzer broke with an exasperated exhale as he turned to examine the expensive-looking (tacky in his opinion) vase without really seeing it.

 

        “Where’s Mo-”

 

        “Why are you so dramatic about everything?” Her clear voice sang out above his cop-out of a question. She always was the more confident of the two. “Why do you have to make everything about you? Why do you have to hold back all the time?” There was no doubt or bite in the questions. Just simple, genuine questions. It only made them sting more.

 

        Whizzer was about to protest and snap back, make a pointed retort or snarky remark, but he remembered the earlier argument with Marvin and quieted. He hadn’t seen Lily in years. There had been days where he thought he’d never see her again. Why was he pushing her away? Why did he always push?

 

        “... I don’t know, Lily.  Wish I did.” He put his hands in his pockets and stared at the vase. She shifted towards him and laughed slightly, causing Whizzer to turn in confusion.

 

        “You still play baseball?” He bowed his head and laughed, tears coming to his eyes for whatever reason.

 

        “Pretty hard to find a free diamond in New York City. Sometimes I go to the batting cage if I’m feeling angsty. Just like old times.”

 

        “New York City! How in the hell did you end up there? Can’t imagine you fitting in among all that hustle and bustle.” A gentle jab to the ribs followed her jubilant giggle. He’d missed her laugh - it sounded like bells at Christmas time, with his mom humming with Hebrew dusting her lips.

 

        “Hey, I found my place there. Can’t believe you stayed in this dusty little town.”

 

        “Had too many people I’d be leaving. How about you? Did you find a new dysfunctional family to be a part of?” The questions were asked jokingly but they hit a bit harder than intended.

 

        Whizzer pressed his lips together briefly before letting out a half-hearted “Sort of.” She shot him a puzzled look.

 

        “Well, come into the kitchen with me. Do you want some coffee?”

 

        “Thought you’d never ask.” He needed some caffeine. Especially if he was going to deal with the douchey-looking husband.

 

* * *

 

 

        As they walked in Roger looked up from the cracked table he was scrubbing clean. He was the kind of stoney-faced that made Whizzer nervous, like any moment he’d be struck somehow. Instead of looking at Roger’s square-set jaw or stormy eyes, Whizzer watched Lily go about setting up the coffee machine. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Everything still felt like a porcelain model of his memories - any moment it could tip over and shatter into nothing. He leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen to ground himself on something stable.

 

        Lily moved so evenly through measuring the coffee grounds and pouring in water. She was beautiful, like some sort of matriarchal goddess. Something about her was decidedly motherly, some new quality he couldn’t recognize. Roger straightened up and turned to put away the cleaning materials he’d used. He walked so confidently around _his_ _house_. He felt obtrusive, like a strange intruder just at the edge of your vision but just lurking out of reach from action, so instead of protesting he simply let himself stay mute. As the silence echoed rudely around him he floated into another memory.

 

         _The fluorescent lights flicker above him like a bunch of lightning bugs. They cast a yellow-ish sort of light on everything, making his tired Momma look sickly. She’s making something - meatloaf. Whizzer is sitting at a pulled-out kitchen chair. His legs are just long enough that his feet sweep the floor as he swings them back and forth. His face and clothes are dusty, a large band-aid put very neatly over a spot on his forearm. He picks at it as he watches Momma cook. Worry is growing in the pit of his stomach like somebody pulled the plug at the base of him and the tub water is flowing out._

 

         _“Momma, I’m sorry, I didn’t see-” She slaps her hand onto the counter and he winces, crossing his legs at the ankles and stilling. His arm hurts. She turns and looks at him, fear and anger and some odd sort of regret radiating from her eyes._

 

         _“You could’ve broken your arm, John. You have to be more careful.” He swallows and looks away, studying their old cabinets. Their paint is an old white and the knobs look like they’ve been dinged and over-twisted too many times. Hot shame burns on his face and makes him flushed and sniffly. Momma sighs and kneels by him. “You’re my tough little guy, huh? You scared me. That was too high, okay? Don’t climb so high. Don’t scare me like that.” He nods and swallows hard._

 

         _His Dad is tall and strong he has a stubbly beard that used to tickle when he’d hug him. Everybody listens to him and he isn’t good at tying ties. Most of all, Dad can throw baseballs well and run fast and he knows what way he’s going just from looking at the sun. Sometimes Whizzer likes to put on his military hat, even though it’s too big for his head, and look at himself. Everybody says he looks like Momma with his delicate nose and long eyelashes, but he likes to think he looks like Dad in his hat._

 

         _Dad walks in loud. Dad always walks in loud. Momma goes back to put the meatloaf in the oven. His arm still hurts. Dad kisses Momma on the cheek before turning to look at him, screwing up his eyebrows in a way that makes Whizzer want to go away._

 

         _“What’d you do, kiddo?” He walks to where Whizzer is sat and examines the bruises already forming on his arms and legs._

 

         _“I climbed too high and then the branch broke so I fell down.” Whizzer’s throat feels tight like the words don’t want to leave his mouth._

 

         _“Does it hurt bad? Are you alright?” Dad puts one of his big hands on his shoulder. Something in his voice sounds scared but it’s buried by a sharp clip that Whizzer can only take as disappointment. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head._

 

         _“No, Dad. I’m fine.” Dad smiles and ruffles his hair but Whizzer doesn’t mind because Dad is smiling again._

 

         _“That’s right. My tough little Johnny. You’re gonna make a great soldier one day, kiddo.” Whizzer grins as Lily runs down from her room, hair all a mess and tears streaming down her face. Her big eyes look scared as her little feet carry her clumsily over to Whizzer. Something about her little voice makes Whizzer smile as she cries to him._

 

         _“Johnny-”_

 

        “Are you alright?” Her voice wasn’t small and weepy anymore. He was back now, the tiles more cracked and the curtains more worn. He took a breath and nodded as Lily handed him the coffee mug. _“My tough little Johnny”_. Roger was staring at him quizzically but Lily motioned for him to stop.

 

        “Do you want sugar or cream or anything?” A laugh escaped his throat, thinking of the mornings Marvin would complain about Whizzer’s coffee habits. It had always made Marvin frustrated that Whizzer liked his coffee black but he had to smother it with flavors and sweeteners to stomach it at all - something about pride obviously.

 

        “No thank you, it’s fine how it is.” It was still just a touch too hot but Whizzer drank it anyway. He liked the way it danced on the edge of hurting his tongue without actually burning him.

 

        “So you’re married.” He nodded at Roger slightly. He didn’t return the gesture.

 

        “Yeah. He’s a brick wall sometimes but I love him.” She giggled and Roger went to stand next to her. They shared a moment so full of love that Whizzer wanted to look away. He felt like an unwelcome spectator at the zoo. A little flame of jealousy burned steady in his chest but he ignored it. She looked back at him and sipped at her coffee.

 

        “You look good. You still look like Mom.” He let out a breath of a laugh and ran a hand through his hair.

 

        “Where is she?” _Is she alright?_ Whizzer didn’t know if he wanted to see her or not. He remembered her eyes, always watching but never saying anything. He remembered seeing her praying in a language he didn’t know, a necklace with a six-pointed star always hanging gracefully around her neck. He remembered the way her eyes closed when he’d look at her with tears in his eyes. He shook his head to clear it, suddenly wanting a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in years, but the craving snuck back in like it was easy.

 

        “She’s upstairs. I don’t really know how to tell her that you’re here…” She trailed off, glancing at Roger. He nodded and kissed her forehead before going off. His footsteps fell heavily on the staircase as he went up. _Just like Dad’s used to._

 

        “How’d you meet that gem?” Lily smacked him lightly.

 

        “He’s a really good person. You just have to get to know him.” Whizzer scoffed and crossed his arms.

 

        “I’m sure.” Lily sighed and looked after where he’d gone.

 

        “He doesn’t know how to talk to you. G-d, Johnny, I barely know how to talk to you. And he hasn’t always heard the best things about you,” Whizzer closed his eyes and steeled himself over for the injuries he knew were coming, “You left me here. You never even said goodbye, John. You don’t know what it was like without you here. It was like you’d died. Do you know how long we searched for you? Do you know what everybody was saying? No. Because you were off in New York City or something. The baseball team retired your number. Mom changed. Dad did too.”

 

        “Oh, I’m sure Dad felt really bad. I’m sure I really hurt him, Lil. Just tore him up.” His voice got sharp and caustic. He hadn’t even meant it to, but he didn’t stop it.

 

        “He did! He stopped talking to us. He started drinking more. He would disappear for days, we still don’t know where he would go!”

 

        “Am I supposed to feel bad? I’m _so sorry_ that I _hurt his feelings_. Poor old Dad, it must have been humiliating, huh? Actually, I don’t know if he could’ve been more embarrassed of me. No. I’m sure he just missed having somebody to take all his anger out on.” He felt like throwing up. He felt like he wanted to cry but he’d forgotten how.

 

        “Really great, Johnny. Just great.”

 

        “Stop calling me that! Stop! It’s not my name!”

 

        “You know, you’re so fucking selfish. I thought maybe you’d grown up, off wherever the hell you were, but you didn’t. You’re still a petty, self-obsessed child. Dad is dead! He’s gone! And you’re still acting like he’s some kind of monster. I don’t want Mom to see you yet. Not like this. She’s hurting enough. Although I don’t suppose you care, right? That’d require you to think about somebody other than yourself for half a second. Get out.” Whizzer was shaking. He stared at her blankly, like the last few seconds hadn’t registered in his head.

 

        “You can come back later. Just. I need you out, now. Go away!” Suddenly he noticed she was crying. He stood, feeling mechanical, and bit his lip. He looked around the kitchen and heard the echoes of breaking dishes and laughter and sobs. Everything felt like it was falling. He felt small as he walked numbly out of the house. He walked and walked, not sure where he was going, or why, just that he was walking.

 

        It was starting to get dark as he reached the old baseball diamond. He hadn’t meant to end up there, but he did. It was desolate and somehow looked lonely. He found his way to the dugout and sat on the bench, hugging his knees to his chest like a child. He felt like a reflection in a mirror. His tears sat right on the edge of his eyes but never fell, held back by some stupid barrier that he couldn’t understand. He didn’t think any thoughts, he didn’t even really feel any emotions, he just hugged his knees in the dugout and watched as the world melted around him.

 

        He didn’t know how long he’d sat there. After what seemed like an eternity in an instant he realized with a detached sort of irony that he’d left his suitcase at the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I promise I'm still working on this, it's just tough to balance school, work, and writing. I'm at an interesting break right now so hopefully I'll make some headway on this. Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Minor Reconciliations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer returns yet again and unavoidable conversations are had.

 

        The night wasn’t pleasant. He barely slept, electing to stay in the dugout all night and sort of drifting in and out of an uncomfortable unconscious state. The sun breaking over the horizon and stinging his eyes was the only thing that broke him from his statuesque trance. As he stood and stretched his joints cracked and popped and his jacket settled more normally around his frame. After a deep breath he finally saw the diamond for what it was - _his_ diamond. The scoreboard, though off, had the bright red insignia of _his_ former team painted neatly on it. He laughed quietly as he remembered how much he hated the clash of their blue and red uniforms, but even despite the horribly coordinated colors and the frequent slides to home he had always kept his uniform immaculately clean. He only smiled more, almost feeling the adrenaline-filled days - the clean snap of the bat against the ball; the manic, euphoric hugs after a won game; the nights spent practicing relentlessly until the stars were bright overhead and Coach Hudson reminded him he had to go home. His voice echoed in his head now, _“It’s time you went home, Whizzer. Your Mom’ll worry.”_

 

        He was reluctant as always to leave the safe-haven. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed it…. Missed them. His team and his coach had always been there to support him, even as slurs echoed through his halls and he wore his bruises like armor. Finally he turned away to the long walk back home. He rubbed the sleep and the nostalgic tears from his eyes as he focused on the lines of the road. His mind knew the way without even thinking.

 

        As he approached the house and the sun rose higher in the sky he remembered everything from last night. Guilt and hurt spiked through him for everything he’d said and heard. He’d never wanted to make his little sister cry. He’d never wanted to talk about any of this again. Yet, here he was, standing at the front door trying to breathe in the courage to knock on the door once again. He heard the German Shepherd - Hans? - barking inside and finally rapped on the door steadily. It wasn’t insistent, or at least he hoped, just assertive. He could hear movement inside and the familiar pounding of his heart rushed to his ears.

 

         _His heartbeat rushes to his ears as he goes to the arched entrance of the box and steps inside. He fiddles with his tie - it was his 11th birthday present and is now his new favorite tie, dotted with delicate navy blue flowers so finely that from afar it just looks like patterned black - and tries to calm his breathing as he sits down. His small voice rings out nervous but sure._

 

         _"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was two weeks ago." He swallows and looks down. “I disobeyed my Dad when I took Herbey to the park and played with him instead of doing my homework. I was envious of Eric when he got to be our team’s pitcher instead of me. Last week, I didn’t come to confession even though I had sinned and I knew I should. I didn’t go to math class because I went with a friend to play baseball instead…” He trails off and falls quiet as he nears the end of his list. The idea of finishing his confession there crosses his mind but he steels his resolve and goes over the story once again in his mind._

 

         _“Is that all you have to say, my child?”_

 

         _His throat gets tight and he closes his eyes as hard as he can. “No sir…. I had impure thoughts. Really impure thoughts. I was at school and I went to the bathroom and there were two older boys. They were kissing. When I came in they stopped but I knew what they were doing-”_

 

         _“Don’t confess the sins of others. Focus inwardly.”_

 

         _“Right. Right. Well. They left and I couldn’t help wondering - what would that feel like? Doing that with another boy. And… other things too.” His face flushes bright red as he admits this. He’s ashamed but more so he’s confused, unsure of why G-d would make him want something if He didn’t approve of it. “I imagined it and it was nice. I wanted it.” A small silence falls as he sits in his shame, trying to think if there’s anything else he wants to say about it. Finally he takes a breath and nods._

 

         _“I am sorry for these sins and all the sins of my past life.”_

 

        That bitter taste came back into his mouth - the remembered shame and disgust making him want to throw up on the pretty tulips that lined the house. _Eleven years old and already ashamed of who he was._ He bit his nails as he pushed the foul memory away. That had been one of his last confessions but he could still remember the stale air of the box and the cracked voice of the priest as he counseled him on how to apologize for his existence.

 

        Finally the door opened and there Lily stood, flour on her shirt and her hand on her hip. Her expression was open and clear - exasperated. With the way she looked at Whizzer he was sure her frustration wasn’t entirely his fault. He also knew his face was even and neutral, waiting for her to make the first move. He hated feeling vulnerable and the explosive fear of the past night had made him want to walk carefully from now on. Lily finally broke the silence.

 

        “I’m glad you came back.” He stiffened slightly and looked at the wall beside her. _She must have been afraid I’d just leave again._ He nodded and put a hand in his pocket.

 

        “There isn’t really anywhere else to go.”

 

        “Well, come on inside. I’m trying to make a quiche.” She gestured with annoyance at her flour covered shirt. As Whizzer followed her inside Hans trotted to him and sniffed at his hands. His round eyes still looked up at him with some suspicion but apparently not enough suspicion to refuse a good scratch behind the ears. The dog walked along at his hip as he continued back into the kitchen. To say it was a mess would be kind. There were bits of spinach on the floor and flour lining the countertop - some sort of explosion must have happened - and a broken egg sat next to the sink, dripping egg white onto the floor. Whizzer’s eyebrows shot up and he stifled a giggle.

 

        “So I’m guessing cooking isn’t your strong suit either?” She looked at him, dismayed, and groaned.

 

        “You mean you didn’t come back to help me?”

 

        “I think I’d make things worse? If that’s possible.” She laughed, stirring what Whizzer can only guess is the quiche filling, and he couldn’t help laughing along. “Why a quiche? And why now?”

 

        “I think maybe I wanted to make Mom feel better? She always made the best quiches. But I don’t remember if it was really to make her feel better or me. Or maybe you.” She sighed and put the bowl down, sitting with her back against the oven. “Help me clean it up and then never talk about it again?” Whizzer laughed again and nodded, melting into the ease of casualness happily. Caution still echoed in the back of his mind but joking with his sister was something he’d missed.

 

        “Of course.” A silence fell as he helped her clean. It gave the illusion of simplicity but much more hung in the quiet than Whizzer was comfortable acknowledging.

 

        “I’m sorry. Some of the things I said were insensitive. I know I can’t blame you for some things…. I know there were things you had no control over. I know you’re probably hurting too. I just don’t understand-”

 

        “I didn’t want to leave _you_ , Lily. I hated leaving you. I hated myself for leaving you. But I couldn’t stay.” He shrugged as he knelt down to wipe up the flour on the floor. “Let’s not talk about it now.” Another silence fell, but somehow it was more comfortable. Lily had stilled but Whizzer didn’t want to push. He felt like a balloon floating to the sky, his string in her hand. He knew she could let him go. She could watch him float away and walk off, forgetting he’d come back and pretending she hadn’t seen him. Finally she stood and walked to him, looking him up and down.

 

        “I hated you for years. It’s stupid, huh? How hate and love are so quick to jump in and out. Like jump rope. Don’t worry, dumbass, I love you.” There were tears falling quietly down her cheeks. They weren’t angry or sad, just a simple statement of emotion. Whizzer swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his messy hair. Everything was rushing like the sound of the ocean. What had felt like a static dream for so long shattered into reality. He loved his sister and she loved him too. He’d left her here and they’d both become entirely new people and she still loved him. He started crying too, hard. It was a harsh thing, a sob. It wracked through his body and hurt his stomach but he was grinning, gritting his teeth through a strange sort of smile. Lily hugged him tightly and hushed him, rubbing his back and laughing at his odd expression. “It’s okay. I still love you, Whizzer. You know Mom isn’t gonna call you that right?” Whizzer laughed and sobbed.

 

        “Yeah, Lil, I know.” She let him stand back and wipe his face. He felt sort of stupid but she didn’t look at him with any sort of disappointment or disgust.

 

        “Well. You look like a mess, John.” She caught her mistake and looked apologetic for a second. “That’s gonna take some getting used to. Go take a shower before I kick you out.”

 

* * *

 

 

        The shower felt better than he’d remembered showers could. It was refreshing and cleansing and made his head feel better after the headache from his crying. Crying like that always made Whizzer’s head hurt - a sort of insult to injury. Finally, he got into a fresh outfit and styled his hair just so, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked tired and sort of hollow, like a ceramic version of himself filled with all sorts of things he didn’t remember putting there. He did feel better, though, and the familiar primping made him feel a bit safer.

 

        Marvin’s familiar chides still snuck into his head, though. _“Your hair’s parted wrong. I haven’t seen that belt before, did you buy a new one again? Shave your legs, Whiz.”_ A stubborn part of him was glad Marvin was out of his life - he was an asshole who treated him like a piece of property most of the time - but a much more honest part of him missed the stupid way he’d smile when he’d won an argument, or the hideous outfits he’d put together just to make Whizzer correct him, or the light in his eyes when they woke up curled together and he looked at Whizzer like some sort of angel. Whizzer missed the feeling of being loved, even if Marvin couldn’t actually show him the love he deserved.

 

        He shook Marvin out of his head as he made his way down to the living room. Lily and Roger looked up from an ornate picture book, smiling together. Whizzer took a deep breath and walked over to Roger, extending his hand.

 

        “Hello, Roger. I know you’ve probably heard a bit about me but I thought it was about time I introduce myself. You can call me Whizzer. It’s nice to meet you.” After a few seconds Roger stood, shaking his hand and nodding once.

 

        “I’m glad you came back. We both wanted you at the wedding. We thought maybe you’d want to see some pictures.” He gestured sort of awkwardly to the book and Whizzer nodded, realizing much of what he had mistaken for stoic distaste coming from Roger was actually just quiet self-consciousness. The gesture made Whizzer’s chest tight and his eyes misty but he was dancing too close to emotional exhaustion.

 

        “That means more to me than you can appreciate. I’d really like to, but I think I’d rather look at it alone. I’m…. a bit tired right now.”  Roger nodded and Lily closed the book, eyeing him with that spark that meant she wanted something from him. He arched a cleanly shaped brow warily in her direction. “What?”

 

        “You must’ve called for a reason. It’s been twelve years. Why now?” She leaned on her knees, looking at him curiously. Whizzer sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

         “You always were good at poking right where it hurts.” Whizzer took a moment to think his words over before he said them. “I’d found a…. friend in New York. A very close friend. I’d gotten close to his family, too, and I moved in with him. We were really good sometimes, I really-...” he shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, “but anyway, the asshole ended up kicking me out. So I had nowhere to go. And I guess, losing that family,” he looked away, trying very hard (and almost succeeding) to not think of nights with he and Marvin and Jason making sarcastic conversation over lasagna, “made me think of the families I’d lost before.”

 

        “Seems to be a talent of yours.” Lily stared at him with her bright blue eyes and Whizzer smiled sadly.

 

        “Ouch, Lil.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

 

        “The funeral is tomorrow. You should talk to Mom before then.” Whizzer closed his eyes and bit at his nail. He had no idea what he’d say to her, how he could forgive her or himself. The more he thought about her the less sure he was, doubt and regret circling through his mind again.

 

         _His legs swing while he drinks his apple juice (his favorite juice). Momma is washing the dishes and Lily is at a friend’s house and Dad is at work, so he’s drinking juice._

 

         _“Momma, why don’t you come to church with us?” Momma stiffens a little and puts down her dish. It’s one of Dad’s mugs that he always drinks his coffee out of._

 

         _“I believe in a different kind of G-d, honey.” He doesn’t really understand but he nods._

 

         _“So, do you go to a different church?”_

 

         _“I used to, but I haven’t in a while.” She turns off the water and dries off her hands, going to sit with him. “Johnny, you know your Dad and I love you very very much, right?” He nods, starting to feel a little worried. Momma is always looking more and more tired, like she never really gets any good sleep._

 

         _“I love you, too.” She nods and brushes a stray lock of hair out of his face._

 

         _“Sometimes Dad may get frustrated. Sometimes Dad can get scary. But listen - listen to me John,” she takes his face in her hands and looks into his wide eyes, “he loves you, no matter what. He loves all of us. Remember that, we both love you.” He nods and they hug tightly._

 

        He took a deep breath and swallowed a mouthful of pride, finally letting his exhaustion show through his voice. He looked at Lily and frowned, glancing up in the direction of their Mom.

 

        “I don’t know what I’d say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter is a little odd? It felt a little odd writing it but I think I'm happy with where it is now. As always, thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment!


	4. A Mother's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer finally bites his tongue and speaks to his mother. Unexpected topics surface.

 

        The trip up the stairs to his mother’s room felt absurdly long. Lily had said some half-hearted reassuring words before going off with Roger for some sort of funeral preparation that Whizzer had barely understood. Guilt and regret and every other emotion under the sun coursed through him with each step. The old staircase creaked under him and he took his time, counting how long each breath he took was - an old habit taking over again. 

 

          He passed his old room and couldn’t help glancing through the half-closed door as he passed. He saw his old baseball stuff and books and other various clutter scattered among things for a nursery - a crib, stuffed animals, a mobile, and a bottle set. It sent an odd sort of shiver through him, like he’d seen something meant to be hidden away. Something about the image read as grotesque and melancholy in his mind. He pushed the feeling away as he moved on down the hall.

 

         Finally he came to the old door to his parent’s room. He hesitated before knocking and tried to calm down.

 

         _He doesn’t want to go inside. He knows he has to, but his stomach twists at the idea and he thinks he may puke on the hardwood. That’d make it worse, he knows, so he shuts his eyes as tight as he can and holds his breath for a few seconds. Once the feeling passes he steps into the threshold of his parent’s room and braces himself for what he knows is coming._

 

         _At first it’s eerily quiet. His mother is folding clothes and his father is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down. He shifts and Whizzer eyes him cautiously. He feels as though he’s expected to say something but he has no idea what. He doesn’t know if anything he says will be the right thing._

 

         _“I’m sorry-” His voice feels pathetic even to him before his father cuts him off._

 

         _“Sorry? You’re sorry. Do you know how embarrassing this is?” Whizzer swallows and stares at his feet, the familiar shame burning on his face. “How are we going to go to church? What do you think people are saying?” He has no answers so he just sort of shrugs, hoping this will all be over soon. “Nothing? You have nothing to say?” Whizzer finally looks up and bites his tongue inside his mouth. The yelling is familiar but that doesn’t make it easier to breath or keep from crying._

 

         _“Honey, please. I’m sure he’s confused.”_

 

         _“Confused?” His father turns to his mother and almost laughs, his face twisting in a bitter sort of smile. “Are you confused, John? Tell me what you’re_ _confused_ _about. Tell me what I failed to explain to you.” He walks to him, his breath hot and angry._

 

         _“I wasn’t confused, sir.”_

 

         _“So then tell me why.” He has no explanation to give so he stays quiet. For about two agonizing seconds the silence roars around them like a hurricane. Everything is still. His mother is watching with a removed, muted sort of expression.  His father is staring down at him, accusatory and tensed. Whizzer, to his very core, just wants to disappear._

 

         _Suddenly there’s motion. Too much motion. A slap rings out, the sound dying at the walls, and Whizzer is facing the dresser before he has time to process what’s going on. His vision is spinning and his face stings. He can feel the blood pumping through him as he pushes the tears in eyes back._

 

         _“Why did you kiss that boy?” He’d never hit him before. He’d yelled and screamed and made Whizzer want to run away and never look back, but he’d never hurt him like that. Everything is dim and the air is heavy and hard to breath. He knows he’s shaking but can’t stop it. He faces his father, forcing a neutral expression, and takes a deep breath._

 

         _“I wanted to.” He can’t think of anything else to say._

 

         _“I didn’t raise a faggot.” His dad pushes roughly past him, his elbow digging into his stomach as he does. The pain is a muted insistence as he leans against the door frame. Everything is muted as he sinks to the floor and hugs his knees to his chest. His mother goes back to folding laundry._

 

        He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes tightly. He felt exhausted and worn down, like an old light-bulb. He was blinking and fluttering, plunging the room in and out of darkness with an unsteady flicker, but everybody kept coursing electricity through him anyways. He wanted to lay down there on the hallway floor and curl up so tightly that he disappeared. Instead he counted his breaths - _in… out: 1… in… out: 2…_ \- and focused on the patterns of dots morphing and swirling behind his closed eyes.

 

        After what seemed like an absurdly long time he opened his eyes and, before he had the time to stop himself, knocked on the door twice. He stared at the doorknob like it was going to kill him if he looked away. It was glass, one of the old-style ones that felt odd and stiff in your hands.

 

        “Come in, please.” It didn’t sound like his mother. He went in anyways.

 

        His mother was sitting on the bed, her hair greying and thin around her small shoulders. Wrinkles creased her face and hands, though her nails were painted a neat, unobtrusive sort of dark wine color as usual. She looked up at Whizzer with a sad, melancholy face. Something about her eyes made Whizzer want to hug her and push her away at the same time. She had the aura of a shy little girl, quiet and subdued for fear of some devastating consequence.

 

        The room itself was unassuming. Something about it made it feel like a mirage, although Whizzer wasn’t actively looking at it. He didn’t have to. Without even seeing it he knew that it felt like he was floating, barely breathing and all abuzz inside. He knew he should say something but instead he just looked at his mother, taking in every little change and every point of disarray. That same tired look spread from her eyes outward to her whole face, like some sort of virus corrupting her whole being. It was slightly disturbing to see but he couldn’t look away. If his light-bulb was flickering before, now it was steady but dim. Guilt crept into his heart, a silent intruder who took nothing away but instead stared at him expectantly.

 

        “Hello, John.” She gave him a sad little smile, her eyes on him but not really perceiving him.

 

        “Hello, Mom.” He felt like a bad actor in a with a poorly written script. There was no meaning or feeling behind the words, just empty sounds finding their way out of their mouths simply because that was what was supposed to happen.

 

        “I’m glad you’re back. How have you been?” It was agonizing. The whole atmosphere was agonizing. The air was too stiff in the room and any small movement felt dangerous.

 

        “Dad is dead.” His mother barely reacted - she tilted her head down as an odd shiver ran through her body. _That was too harsh_. After an acidic pause he walked slightly further into the room. Something about it read like a trap. Whizzer’s steps were cautious. “I’m getting by. How are you?”

 

        “I’m getting by too. We all miss him”

 

        Whizzer crossed his arms, the wall of guilt and fear finally breaching. Hurt and anger sizzled through him and his head darted to the side. He felt like he’d been given a dose of speed. The room sharpened and cleared in his mind, like fog had been sucked away. This was where it had begun. This poisonous room in this poisonous house with that poisonous man - all of it was here. He blinked hard and picked out familiar details: the crack in the wall, still snaking jaggedly from the crater punched in near the door; the weather stains on the window sill which somehow still had paint chips in the hard-to-reach corners; the single bloodstain on the corner of the rug, not a large pool but enough of a spatter to leave a dappling of red-brown after all these years. Mom had tried to scrub it out for months, she’d obsessed over it manically for hours, but it never came out.

 

        “Did he ever hit you, or was that just me?” He looked straight at her. It was _not_ his turn to feel guilty. He’d made a lot of mistakes but this burden was _hers_ to bear. That little shiver ran through her again. There was another long pause. It was as if she’d forgotten about time, or she lived outside it and it had become a strange, funny custom she didn’t quite understand.

 

        “Once. Just once. We were having an argument right after you were born. I was being stubborn - you get that from me. That fire. He slapped me and I stopped arguing.” Whizzer straightened his shirt.

 

        “Why did you stay with him, then? Why didn’t you say anything? You just _stood there_ while he _hurt me_.” His words were venomous, dripping with blame, but his mother just smiled. It made Whizzer angrier.

 

        “Because I loved him. I still do.”

 

        “Even though you saw what he was doing? What it was doing to me?” His mother sighed and looked out the window. The glass was cloudy enough that its ability to function as a real window was questionable.

 

        “I hated that side of him. I hated myself for loving him anyways.” She turned and smiled at Whizzer, tears gathering in her eyes as she stood. “And I loved you so much. Too much to fight back. I wrote you letters every day, but I had nowhere to send them. I put them in an old box - I’m sure Lily knows where they are.” She approached him fluidly. Her gait was the same graceful swoop that it’d always been, like in some other life she’d been a dancer, but it had slowed some. She reached out and touched his shoulder. He stopped himself from flinching. “You were always such a pretty little boy. Now you’re such a handsome man. I know it was hard to come back to all of this, but please- if you ever listen to me again listen to me now.

 

        “Love is complicated. It’s - it’s deep and resounding. Somehow, it sneaks in and becomes a part of you. It changes you in all sorts of ways. Maybe you understand now, or maybe you will - I pray that you do - but you can’t just stop loving someone. Whether they’re good and kind or childish and hurtful, a piece of you is with them and a piece of them is with you. However they hurt you if you truly love them you can’t make that love go away. I loved your father and his love will always be a part of me. But please know, I love you very much. I’m not stupid, I know coming back here was hard. Honestly I’m surprised that you did. But I’m proud of you. You’ll always be a part of me too.”

 

        It was not really what Whizzer had expected to hear. He expected to be given some sort of cheap excuse. He wanted to be offended and annoyed by what she’d said, he’d wanted to be given the excuse to have some sort of outburst. Instead she’d given him advice she hadn’t even known he’d needed. _That’s Mom, though._ All of his anger and fear and confusion moved to aim squarely at Marvin. Normally he pushed the thoughts of him away but he couldn’t now. He couldn’t deny that he missed him anymore. Somehow, his mother had put a spotlight on the very thing that had pushed him to come here. Tears sprang to his eyes and he was annoyed at his own inability to push them back.

 

        “I love you too, Mom.” Suddenly her demeanor changed. She got that sly little smile, the one she passed down to Lily, that Whizzer knew meant she wanted information. And that she would get it.

 

        “There’s someone you’re not telling me about, isn’t there?” Whizzer huffed.

 

        “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

        “Yes, you do.” She fussed with the collar of his shirt a bit while giving him a mischievous glance. Whizzer shifted uncomfortably.

 

        “Okay. But not here. Let’s go for a walk.” His mother went to the large mirror on the wall and fixed her hair, taming the messy grey waves. Memories of watching his mother winding her thick hair into a neat, honey-brown bun briefly surfaced in his mind. He smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

         After around 15 minutes of getting ready - and 20 minutes of convincing Lily that it was okay to let their mother out of her sight - Whizzer and his mother were out in the heavy Kansas heat. He stepped cautiously, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to tell his mother about.

 

        “Who is he?” His mom had put on a fine, simple sunhat even though the sun had already begun to sink towards the horizon. Whizzer took a breath. The air flowed into his lungs in a dry, unsatisfying way. He could give a first name, maybe a few minor details. It was difficult to accept the idea of trusting her with something as precious as Marvin was to him, as much as he hated to admit it. After a long silence that his mother seemed breezily unaware of Whizzer finally found his voice.

 

        “His name is Marvin. He lives in New York City - that’s actually where I ended up.” Surprise briefly passed over his mother’s face but quickly dissipated.

 

        “That sounds exciting. Tell me about him.” They were walking at a languid pace and somehow everything seemed too light and casual. Where he and Lily would fluctuate between easy conversation and more tense discussion in a way that felt safe, the relaxed feeling of conversation with his mother felt disingenuous.

 

        “He’s needy, and rude, and childish. Sometimes he’s controlling and sometimes he’s passive aggressive,” Whizzer sighed and shrugged in a defeated manner, “but he’s also caring, sort of. He’s charming in his own stupid, backwards way, I think. We have this rhythm- when it works, it really just works. Then, when it doesn’t…” He trails off and puts his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t meant to divulge so much but it came tumbling out of his mouth like a handful of sand. 

 

         “You miss him.”

 

        They walked for a long time in silence. It was slightly breezy and Whizzer could see traces of the mother he remembered from his early childhood come and go. She was a fiery sort of woman, too tender for her own good but equally as outspoken.

 

        “I still don’t understand, Mom,” she gave him an inquiring look and he shrugged, “Love. I thought I did. But I feel like I’m in one of those huge hedge mazes and I really thought I’d taken the right path but it turns out that it was just some long dead end.” His mother smiled kindly and looked out at the blue sky above.

 

        “I don’t think anyone really understands it, Johnny. That’s what makes it so beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! For those keeping up with this fic, sorry this chapter took so long. It was tough to write because of some other things going on in my life right now but I'm finally happy with it. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It's probably a bit rough so a really huge thanks. If you'd like to comment or anything it's much appreciated! I take requests for one shots of other fandoms and stuff too, so if you're interested in that comment below or message me at my email (amomeneedup@gmail.com) or my snapchat (antigravityjam).


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